CHAPTER XV. HOW THE COCKEREL CROWED.

It was yet early in the afternoon, for the last courses had been finished much more speedily than was anticipated.

By the laws of the tilt, it was incumbent on the remaining knights-challengers to meet each one of the other knights who had not been unhorsed, if they desired to go on with the joust. Each of the knights who was unhorsed was disqualified from taking further part in that day's tilting.

Sir Alain de Kervignac, therefore, was left to encounter alone each of the other esquires who survived from the previous jousting. The fourth knight-challenger had not yet appeared. If he arrived before his companion was defeated, or before sundown, he might take part in the tilt.

After a little consultation with his comrades and the Marshal of the Lists, and a notification from Master Meaux that he and his companions demanded a completion of the courses, it was proclaimed that the right valiant, very hardy, and most illustrious knight, Alain de Kervignac, would tilt in succession with each of his opponents. This was delightful news to the crowd, and they cheered him vociferously, while the Captain of the Wight and Yolande sent him their greetings by the Marshal of the Lists.

It was now a little after four o'clock. The sun would not set for another two hours. The other challenger might arrive at any moment, and the chances would then be a little more equal.

Of the assailants of Sir Alain de Kervignac only two could really be reckoned formidable. Master Meaux and Ralph Lisle, from their having already tilted successfully, as well as from their greater bulk and weight, were dangerous antagonists; and although Sir Richard Cornwall had been unhorsed by an unfortunate accident, yet it was quite sufficiently evident that Master Meaux was a very formidable man-at-arms; and as for Ralph, it was abundantly manifest what he could do, in spite of his youth and inexperience.

While these preliminaries were going on, refreshments were handed round, and the competitors were regaling themselves with copious draughts of wine and hippocras. But Ralph had only taken a very moderate draught, having been warned by Sir John Trenchard not to take much refreshment of any kind while there was an immediate prospect of more work before him, as it was likely to unsteady the eye and hand.

Bowerman's mortification at his defeat was rendered tenfold more bitter by the success of Ralph. If he hated him before, his hatred had now become ruthless and implacable, and being naturally of an ungovernable disposition, he became utterly reckless of how he expressed or concealed his rage.

The all-engrossing thought was how could he injure this swaggering upstart, this minion of fortune, this stripling successful only because of the favouritism of his antagonist?

"Don't tell me," said Bowerman fiercely to the stolid Newenhall, for the twentieth time, "don't tell me that it was not all thought on beforehand. That giddy Yolande had got the Breton jackanapes, when she gave him her favour, to promise he would be gentle to her cousin, out of kindness to her family, and then, of course, he got a fall before that blundering lout. But he shall have a fall before I've done," he added savagely.

To all these fierce threats Newenhall only stolidly grunted, until at last Bowerman's fury, eager for an object immediately to vent itself upon, turned upon the luckless Willie, and hitting him a furious blow with the haft of his broken spear, which he still held in his hand, "Pig's Eyes" was knocked off his horse, to the great delight of the bystanders.

"You egg, you, why don't you answer sensibly instead of grunting?" said Bowerman, as he struck Newenhall.

Somewhat refreshed by this exhibition of his superiority, for "Pig's Eyes" was too much bumped by his clanging armour, and felt too dispirited, to retaliate, Bowerman sat on his horse amid the crowd that had gradually encroached upon the space round the lists, outside of which those knights who were disqualified from taking further part in the jousts were standing, or sitting on their horses.

There was a decided movement of the crowd going on, and the heads of the people near the tent set apart for the knights-challengers' use, were all turned towards the pavilion.

Bowerman turned also to see what was passing. All he could see was the head of a tall man, half concealed under the folds of a voluminous hood which he wore, not unlike that worn by the jesters of the time, and very raggedly dressed. A common man, looking like a sailor, but of very powerful build, and with a swaggering expression of utterly reckless daring, was leading after him a horse, big-boned and vicious looking, and which bit at the crowd as it was led among them. On the horse's back was tied a large bundle, and two very strong lances were carried by another man of nearly as truculent appearance as that of his fellow. They were both armed with stout bills, bows and arrows, and axes stuck in broad leathern belts, strapped round their cowhide jerkins, which were undressed, and with the hair still adhering in several places.

The men forced their way up to the gate which led into the railed-off enclosure round the challengers' pavilion, and which was decorated with the four banners and shields of arms of the knights, excepting that the shield and banner of the fourth knight were perfectly plain, with no blazon on them. Arrived at the entrance, the leading man spoke a few words to the yeoman on guard, who looked very much astonished, and after eyeing the ragged individual suspiciously, remained erect and firm before the entrance, but beckoned to one of his comrades to come and speak with him.

The result of their conference was that this latter went off, and in a few minutes returned with the Marshal and Herald.

The ragged man awaited them with perfect composure, and while they were looking at him curiously, he saluted them with easy confidence, and handed the Herald a paper.

This official opened it, and scrutinised it carefully. He then in an amazed way handed it to the Marshal, who read it over very carefully also. This done, they conferred for a few moments apart, and then the Marshal said gravely,--

"Sir, will it please you to enter? The jousts are not yet over."

The ragged man bowed to the official ceremoniously, and bid the varlets who followed him lead the horse into the enclosure, which he also entered, and disappeared in the tent.

"'Tis the packhorse and baggage of the unknown knight," said one of the bystanders.

"Well, to be sure, but he do have odd varlets! and 'tis a shabby turn out."

"But where's the knight?" asked another.

"Oh, he's follering, surely!"

"Then he'd best look sharp, for there's the Breton knight going to begin."

All eyes were now turned upon the lists again.

The Marshal and Herald had returned. After speaking a few words to the Captain of the Wight, and handing him a note which the ragged man had given them, they took up their positions, and once more proclaimed silence.

The Captain of the Wight unfolded the scrap of paper, and with evident difficulty read the contents. His brow contracted, and a deep flush passed over his face.

"By St Nicholas, but 'tis too bold! He presumes over much on my knightly courtesy and the generosity of my nature," he muttered.

And now the mail-clad figures had taken up their positions.

The cautioning words came, soon followed by the order to go, and they rode for each other. The Breton well knew the importance of avoiding any catastrophe. Being a smaller and far lighter cavalier than the heavy man-at-arms opposed to him, he determined to husband his strength. He tilted therefore in such a way as to receive the least possible shock from his antagonist's spear, while he was little careful of doing him any harm, so long only as he maintained his own seat.

Being very skilful, Sir Alain de Kervignac attained his object completely, riding rather wide of the barrier, and so receiving the lance thrust of his adversary more athwart than directly on his breastplate.

The first two courses were ridden with no damage to either, but in the last one the Breton was struck so fiercely by Master Meaux that a part of his vambrace was bent back, and had it not broken off he must have been unhorsed; as it was, he recovered his seat to the admiration of every one, and rode back to the end of the lists, waving his spear aloft.

It was now young Trenchard's turn. No scruples of courtesy interfered any longer: the Breton was tilting for honour and to win the prize.

Changing his tactics, he charged the young man with fierce ardour, and the poor youth was hurled backwards over the crupper.

"Alack, poor lad!" said Mistress Bremeskete, "but he did right manfully."

"Now, surely that weakly Master Oglander will never try his luck?"

But it seemed otherwise, for he rode out to take up his position.

At this moment there was a loud murmur from the crowd. Shouts of derision and astonishment were heard on all sides.

"Mercy on us, what a rusty suit of armour! Surely he might have spent a little more money on his outside!" said one.

"'Tis one he's fished out o' the sea, and forgot to scrape the whelks off!" cried another.

"But he's surely no knight--only a poor hobbler," said Humphrey.

"Nay, he's a knight, sure enough; look at his gold spurs, and the collar round his neck--why, 'tis the 'suns' of York. He'd best be well befriended if he wears that; who can he be?" said Tom o' Kingston, eyeing the martial figure, firm seat, and knightly bearing of the new-comer, who, in spite of his somewhat old armour, which had been furbished up as brightly as possible, but which long use and many rough campaigns had soiled with rust and dints beyond all the labour of a diligent esquire to eradicate, looked every inch a tough man-at-arms.

"'Tis a powerful vicious-looking beast he rides, too; but where can he have come from? I never saw him go into the tent. The only man as I see go in was that mountebank sort of chap in that old hood," said Humphrey.

"Well, 'tis a parlous strange matter! We shall see something though," answered Tom o' Kingston.

One of the sailor-looking men accompanied him, carrying another strong spear. The other man had gone into the crowd again, and soon returned leading a girl by the hand; and, elbowing his way to the front, he secured a good position for his young companion and himself close to the lists, and not far from the Judges' gallery.

"Why, Lord Captain," said Yolande, "there's the little damsel with the large eyes we met at Appuldurcombe Priory."

Lord Woodville looked in the direction indicated, and was immediately moved in the same unaccountable way he had been at the time when he first saw her. "The same eyes, the very same eyes and brow," he murmured.

The "Rusty Knight," as the crowd called him, cantered to the end of the lists, saluted his companions, to whom he was apparently quite unknown, and also bowed gravely to the Captain of the Wight. He was entirely encased in armour, and the heavy tilting helmet hid his head and face completely.

Sir Alain de Kervignac was just preparing to tilt with young Oglander when the "Rusty Knight" entered the lists. He saluted the new comer, and offered him his place, which "he of the rusty armour" declined.

"Don't be rough on weakly Johnny," called out some of the crowd, as they saw the Breton prepare to charge him, but their kindly remonstrances were of little use, beyond serving to unnerve the youth they were intended to aid. His spear feebly struck the shield of his antagonist, while at the same time he received that of the Sire de Kervignac on his helmet, and was unseated immediately.

It was now Ralph's turn, and as he rode out to take up his place, the interest of the crowd was very great.

"'Tis only 'rusty irons' you've got to tackle, Master Lisle."

"Hit him where they've been a-scouring the whelks off of him," called out another; "the iron's sure to be thin there. You'll soon skewer him."

"Silence, you caitiffs!" called out the Master of the Lists, "or I'll have you whipped. Sergeant, smite one of those scurvy knaves over the costard."

This produced tranquillity for a short time, and the increasing excitement helped to keep the crowd quiet.

"Well now, 'tis just like David fighting Goliath!" cried Mistress Bremeskete, in admiration.

"Maybe," said Master Paxhulle; "but Goliath's got parlous rusty harness; and as for David, we can't see if he be ruddy or of a fair countenance; besides, I can't mind that ever they fought a horseback--"

"Nay, marry, what do that matter? we know Master Lisle's face is ruddy enough inside--"

"Oh, ay! I don't doubt. We's mostly ruddy inside, but David was ruddy outside."

"Marry! and good lack for your poor wits, Master Paxhulle! I don't mean his insides, but inside his helmet--but look at that little damsel with the large eyes. What's she doing?"

"Which? What, that little wench next the rough-looking varlet there?"

"Ay, that's her--she's making signs to Master Lisle surely."

"Well, now, so it seems. But he don't take no notice."

"What a state she is getting in! she'll begin crying soon. Poor little thing, be there no one to notice it for her?"

"Why, you see, Master Lisle is that cased in in his iron harness he couldn't see Bevis o' Hampton himself, or the giant Ascupart neither, if they was i' this crowd, so how is it likely he'd see a small wench like that?"

"Couldn't you, Master Paxhulle, go and jog his arm?"

"What, and get rapped over the costard by the Marshal's men?--not I."

"Well then I shall have to ask Master Tom o' Kingston. How fine he do look, to be sure, in his armour."

"Oh, I'll go, Mistress Bremeskete, with right good will, too, if it's to pleasure you; but what shall I say?"

"Tell him a little maid in the crowd is wishful to speak with him."

"Well, but I don't know as how that'll do much good. There's a good many wenches i' the crowd as 'ud like to speak with so fine a gallant as Master Lisle; but I'll try, if it's to please you, Mistress Bremeskete."

So saying, with much difficulty Master Paxhulle forced his way down to the other end of the lists, and requested one of the yeoman on guard to tell Master Lisle's varlet that a young wench in the crowd was making earnest signs to him.

"Tell him," added Master Paxhulle, "she's holding up a little glove, and waving it at him."

Humphrey was soon after seen speaking to Ralph, who instantly remembered the note and the enclosure he had received.

"Give me that glove I gave you to mind for me, Humphrey," said Ralph.

When he had taken it from his varlet, he looked in the direction where the little girl was, and waved the tiny glove in answer; then he bent down his head so that his esquire could place it in his helmet. This done, he sat erect, awaiting the order to charge. It was not long in coming.

"Are you ready?" Down came the spears. "Are you ready? Laissez aller." And away the two steel-clad figures sped to meet in the rude shock of the tilt.

"That knight don't mean to get unhorsed yet awhile," said Tom o' Kingston, who had been watching him narrowly.

"No, nor he don't mean to do Master Lisle any harm. Look how wide he rode, and how lightly he smote him," said Humphrey.

Bowerman was in a furious passion.

"What do they all mean by letting that upstart have it all his own way? Why, that 'Rusty one' could knock him all to bits an he liked. What is it that lets him from doing it? It is a vile plot to win favour."

But he had no one to listen to him now, for Newenhall, disgusted at his treatment, had moved away.

Ralph rode his three courses manfully with the unknown knight. However hard he strove to unseat his antagonist, it was quite clear that "the Rusty one," as the mob called him, did not mean to tilt in earnest with Ralph. This evident partiality for the young favourite of the crowd evoked a feeling of sympathy for the unknown knight.

"If he's rusty, I can see he's trusty," said Master Paxhulle, attempting a feeble joke.

"An they didn't make your outside very bright, you've got a good heart inside, I can see," said Mistress Bremeskete approvingly.

Fortune seemed now to smile on the assailants, for in the next course Sir Alain de Kervignac was unhorsed by the superior weight and freshness of Master Meaux. His fall was greeted by loud shouts of applause, mingled with consoling remarks, such as "There's no shame to you, Master Breton, you've done right manfully; a horse and man can't go on for ever. Never did knight do better than you've done." To all which, Sir Alain, who had mounted his horse again, bowed his acknowledgments.

Master Meaux and Ralph Lisle were now left to tilt against the new comer.

"Let Master Meaux tackle him," shouted the crowd. "You've done enough, Master Lisle."

After a little consultation, it was agreed that the unknown knight should encounter Master Meaux. The interest again became very intense.

"'Twill be a tough bout this time, but I'd lay odds on Master Meaux."

"I dunno, Master Tom, 'tis a big 'oss the other rides, and he's a good lance. Ah! he's off. Body o' me, what a crash!"

There was a universal shout from the spectators, of amazement and disappointment.

"The Rusty Knight," as he was ignominiously called, had entirely changed his tactics, riding closely along the barrier, and urging his large horse to its utmost speed. With helm well down behind his shield, and his body bent forward, he struck Master Meaux a fierce blow with his powerful lance; there was no resisting the vigour of that thrust, and the weight of horse and man propelling it. The blow was aimed at the right shoulder, and blunt as the spear-point was, it broke through the steel pauldron, or shoulder-piece, and, driving in the gusset of chain mail, inflicted a severe wound, carrying the unfortunate Master Meaux over the saddle backwards.

The success was as complete as it was unexpected. No one, not even the most experienced knight there, had any idea that the new comer would have displayed such skill and enormous strength. For to unhorse a man-at-arms of the weight and address of Master Meaux, required a very great exercise of both qualities. There now only remained one survivor on each side. There could be no doubt of the issue, after such an exhibition of power.

"'Tis the best lance I have seen," said Sir John Trenchard.

"Ay, he's a stout lance, but I have seen a better," said the Captain of the Wight, smiling; "but let us see what he will do now."

To the astonishment of everyone, the unknown knight rode the next three courses exactly as he had previously done in his last encounter with Ralph, only in the last round he carried off the little glove on the point of his lance, which fluttered in Ralph's helmet.

As this closed the day's proceedings, the knights who had taken part in the tilting had now to ride round the lists, with their faces uncovered, that all might see who had done bravely. There was great curiosity to see the face of the unknown knight, but he, after having spoken a few words to the Marshal of the Lists, who communicated with Lord Woodville, did not open his visor, to the great disappointment of the crowd.

"Certes, 'tis like Sir Launcelot, or Sir Tristram, when they came among press of knights disguised," said Yolande; "I marvel who he is! Do you know, Lord Captain?"

"'Tis a custom the laws of the tourney allow," said the Lord Woodville, "so long as the Herald and the Judges know; but they are bound to secrecy."

This was a very evasive answer, but it was the only one Yolande was likely to get.

As the competitors rode round the lists--such of them, that is, as could appear--there were loud shouts of applause for the two Breton knights, Master Meaux, and, above all, for Ralph Lisle.

The strange knight would have received applause, had not his refusal to comply with the usual custom created a feeling of resentment in the crowd.

"I don't know but that he bean't as crusty as he is rusty," said Master Paxhulle.

"Maybe his face isn't that pleasant that we'd be any the better for seeing it," said Mistress Bremeskete, with a toss of the head.

As Ralph Lisle passed the place where the little girl was standing smiling at him with a happy smile, he looked at her, curious to discover who she could be, and was startled at seeing in her the same poor beggar maid whose old father he had befriended at Thruxton, when he met them as he was flying his gerfalcon for the first time.

She was holding up the other tiny glove, the fellow to the one he had worn in his helmet, and which he did not know he had lost.

"I am so glad," said the little girl, as he rode past.